


I Am The Visual

by StubbornShrew



Category: The Boondocks
Genre: F/M, Social Justice, Young Love, boondocks, poc characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:44:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StubbornShrew/pseuds/StubbornShrew
Summary: Mirana Caito is given a culture shock when her family relocates from their bario in Harlem to a quiet, predominately Caucasian, suburb in Maryland. Soon after her move there, new neighbors appear which intrigue the young New Yorker.(I'm aging up the characters abit, so at the begginning of the story Huey and Mirana are 12 and Riley is 10)





	I Am The Visual

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is appreciated!

I hated this. I hated leaving my home. My city. My family. My people. All left behind in the bario while we were gonna be sitting pretty, down the street from a country club.

Growing up in a little apartment in Harlem, I always knew we had less than other people, but it never made me sad. Sure, there were a couple times when we didn't have enough money to get that toy I wanted for Christmas or that album I just had to have but I liked my life. I liked the people who were apart of it and the cultures that defined it. You see, my mom came over to the United States from Cuba when she was three years old, along with her older brother and her parents, my lovely abuelos who have lived in the same old townhouse in Queens since they first immigrated here. My dad on the other hand is not an immigrant himself, but the son of one. His father came to America from Italy at 19 years old with nothing but a young wife and a suitcase. He started his own little restaurant in Harlem to help his growing family get by and has since gained a dedicated group of regulars over the years.

Since as long as I can remember, I have been helping my father and grandfather around the restaurant, learning the family business but no. We're moving far, far away from our little restaurant, far away from our little apartment, and far away from our amazing family. My dad had always called himself abit of an entrepreneur, and by some crazy chance, finally got recognition for one of his inventions or businesses or whatever his last project was. All I know is that we have money now. Enough money that my parents decided to relocate our family to a quiet little suburb in Baltimore. 

************************************

"Matteo don't you think this is abit... much, darling?" My mother and I were staring up at the towering house in front of us while my father was shaking with excitement, attempting to unlock the door. "No! No! Not at all, princess! This is what we deserve! This, THIS right here is the American dream!" My father flashed us a winning smile before throwing the door open and exploring his new house. "Huh, this is the American dream?" I couldn't help noticing many uh, particularity Caucasian neighbors taking very very long "glances" at me and my mother's curly hair, or even my mom's more traditional Cuban dress.

Walking up to my bedroom, I happily found that my bed had been delivered the day before and was all nice and set up for me. I jumped on to the bed and layed down, staring at the ceiling for god knows how long. Before I even noticed, the sky was completely dark with nothing but the moon illuminating my near empty room. My head snapped towards the door when it creaked open and I was met by the smile of my gorgeous mother. People always say I look like her, but I don't think so. Maybe we have physical similarities, but our mannerisms are completely different. She's always been graceful, kind to those who persecute her, and gentle to those who are hurting. And me? I'm like my father. Loud and abrasive, stubborn and fiery, but definitely not as naive as him.

I went back to staring at the ceiling, then felt a weight sink into the mattress. I heard my mother sigh, "Mirana..?" I stayed quiet, closing my eyes and listening to the sounds of our new environment. My father talking loudly in Italian to my grandfather on the phone a couple rooms away, the trees rustling outside my window, the crickets chirping which was so unfamiliar to me, my mother's soft breathing, ... my own heart beat. There was so much noise, but it was still so much more quiet than I was used too. I felt a gentle hand play with my curls, a common thing my mother had always done to calm me down. I breathed heavily before raising an eyebrow in the direct of my mom. She raised an eyebrow back at me, but quickly broke into a soft chuckle, "You don't like it here, do you?" I furrowed my eyebrows before answering, "It's... it's just so different," I looked out the window, "I was happy there."

"That's why you're so special, cariña."I sat up, surprised, "Huh? How does being happy with my home make me special?" My mother chuckled again, continuing to stroke me curls. "Because," she smiled, taking my face in both hands, "you know what home truly is. It doesn't matter if you've upgraded to your father's fancy new neighborhood. The bario will always be your home because that's where your people are. Your family. That's where you made memories, mistakes, and victories. That's always going to be your home baby. Your father might not know this, but I do, and wouldn't expect anything less from such a special girl."

I was left in shock as my mom kissed my forehead and bid me good dreams before closing my door. I turned over in my bed, staring out onto the neighborhood that was now to be my home, looking up into the sky and attempting to count the stars. Before I closed my eyes, I had one final thought, 'I've never seen this many stars before'.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is appreciated!


End file.
